Lost
by ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild
Summary: They're actually perfect. And, for once, Barbra-Jean Booker is glad she didn't get this one. Or, an AU in which Brock never slept with Barbra-Jean and fought for his marriage. In the context of the season four episode, 'Diamond Jim Brady', we see Barbra-Jean contemplate Brock and Reba while witnessing an affection moment between the two.


They're the perfect couple - she snaps her gum, mildly irritated at the intrusive thought - but, it's _so_ true. They are the perfect couple - the big, strong, if a bit overly tanned, blond, blue-eyed husband and the short but stunning fireball with vibrant red curls and the prettiest blue eyes, Barbra-Jean Booker's ever seen.

It shouldn't irritate her so much, she realizes, but Barbra-Jean runs on extremes - a happy, bubblegum princess to moody and flat with the snap of her gum. She just feels really weird to watch them - to know, she almost seduced him, but his devotion to fixing his marriage, to the feisty redhead, had kept him from that temptation.

So, she watches them as what she is - a friend of the family, an honorary auntie of Elizabeth Montgomery, and a goofy sister to Cheyenne, Kyra, and Jake. She finds herself fond of Van, not in any romantic sense, but in the way a sister is fond of her little brother. He's with Cheyenne and that's another relationship full of cuteness overload but it's far more tolerable when you don't have a massive, unrelenting, unrequited crush on the husband, while he is wholly devoted to that remarkable lady, you feel ashamed to call your best friend, despite your feelings for her handsome husband.

" - so, there I was, you see, football in hand..." the drone of Van Montgomery recounting the events that led up to his broken tailbone fades - oh, the giggles of Reba when Cheyenne had said he broke his butt, still ring, the look shared with Brock, attempting to quash the giggles, only to laugh harder at his sputtering attempt to not laugh, himself. It's easy to tune him out and tune into the _perfect_ couple.

He's sitting on the arm of the couch, knees parted just enough to allow Reba room to stand in between them, fingers threaded through the beltloops of her jeans, palms curled so warmly around her hips. She's just short enough, he can tuck his chin into her shoulder and watch Van's animated gestures, despite his pain.

" - I swear, I thought I broke my..."

She doesn't need to hear the rest - far too focused on Brock and Reba. She's turned her face to Brock, who barely conceals a smile and tilts his head as if to say, with a "well..." expression, it wasn't the craziest thing he'd heard, but also seems to be a silent plea for his wife not to laugh.

Van's story wraps up with a deflating cushion, Cheyenne biting her lip as she chases him up the stairs to soothe his wounded pride, and Brock and Reba giving into a case of the giggles. Brock's face disappears into her neck, nuzzling into her soft hair, while her shoulders shudder against his chest, both of them helpless against their amusement.

His hands adjust, moving so his arms are wrapped completely around her and Reba's effectively trapped against him, not that she minds, sinking back into her husband, still overcome with laughter at her son-in-law's painful but amusing injury. The more Barbra-Jean watches them, the more she watches their silent communication, the body language, the affection, the more she wonders how she could possibly have been dumb enough to think Brock would ever leave his wife - that she could ever seduce him away from the perfection, he already had at home, and witnessing this just makes his words of rejection ring all the more true.

He wouldn't give Reba up - not for a cute blonde, not for anyone, and he'd bid her goodnight before walking out of the clinic, leaving her to settle cranky old Missus Robinson's bill, while he attended a counselling session with his wife in order to fix his marriage.

Looking at them, now, you'd never guess they were on the verge of divorce, five years ago. You'd never see the hundreds of hours they put in to avoid divorce papers. You'd never see the distance that'd grown between them, the tears that stung Brock's eyes when he came in, in the mornings. You'd never see it because it isn't there, anymore. The vulnerability and the pain - it just isn't there. Whatever went wrong had been fixed and they were back to being that perfect, lovesick couple Barbra-Jean remembers meeting for the first time, a basket of something in her hands, she doesn't remember, now. Doesn't care too.

She feels dumber, now, than she did the night she thought she might snag another married man - honestly, her come to Jesus moment hadn't happened quick enough. She feels dumb for not seeing what it is so plain, what is so crystal clear, you'd have to be blind to miss it.

They're actually perfect.

And, for once, Barbra-Jean Booker is glad she didn't get this one.


End file.
